


Lucifer in the Sky with Diamonds

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Courtroom, Gen, Lucifer | Nick, damned to the sky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
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  <p>Lucifer's done a lot of bad in his life, but he always has seen it for good. Unfortunately, the grand court doesn't, and he's forced to relive his greatest hits and the B sides.</p>
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	Lucifer in the Sky with Diamonds

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating/Warnings:** R; language, quotes from and references to _The Bible_ , exaggerated representations of its characters (meant in jest)
> 
>  **Notes:** Written for 2013-2014 [spn_reversebang](http://spn_reversebang.livejournal.com), prompt [. “Lucifer in the Sky With Diamonds”](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v482/babyomlet/luciskypost-s_zps0eace7e9.png). Big thanks to [harrigan](http://harrigan.livejournal.com) for the wonderful beta! 
> 
> **To my artist:** [kidezt](http://kidezt.livejournal.com) \- I absolutely adored that drawing the moment I saw it and just had to be a part of it. This story went in a different direction than we both had initial imagined, but I appreciate you sticking with it and adding on numerous, gorgeous pieces of art to fit the story. <333
> 
>  
> 
> [Art Post](http://kidezt.livejournal.com/8952.html)

**And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.**   
_2 Corinthians 11:14_

A lot has happened in the ages of Lucifer’s existence. He’s seen angels, demons, and humans all created and each legacy torn apart. Sometimes he’s been at the center of it all, and everyone knows of his story. But the one thing he’s maintained in all those eras is his innocence. He did what was required at the time, and he never apologizes for it. 

And that is the problem now, as he stares at the summons papers in his hands, tense fingers curling into the edges. They’re finally coming after him for all that he’s wrought … well, everywhere. Up in heaven, on earth, and down in hell, all of his work and play will be drudged up and put on display. 

He wants absolutely nothing to do with it.

It isn’t so much a surprise that they’ve caught up with him; the surprise is that they want him in fucking court. All that pomp and circumstance could bite it, as far as Lucifer is concerned. Judges’ robes and juries and asking for permission just to ask tough questions … all of it is a waste in Lucifer’s mind. 

He’s a man of action, and scarcely thinks twice when hard beg to be made. Then again, he suddenly recognizes that such action has landed him in this position.

Making another quick decision, Lucifer grabs the phone and doesn’t even let the pleasantries mix. He immediately says, “Brother, I need your help.”

“What is it?” Gabriel asks. “Did you step on a roly poly and alter all realities?” Lucifer huffs and Gabriel adds, “again?”

“They’re taking me to court.”

“Who?”

“Everyone … the angels and the devils, the apostles, the prophets. You know ... all the dicks.”

“Oh, yikes, that’s a hefty crowd.” Gabriel blows out a breath and chuckles nervously. “What’re you gonna do, bro?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, regretting the fact that he’d called Gabriel. And mostly that he’ll actually have to ask for this favor. Airily, as though it were obvious, he says, “I’m gonna get my lawyer brother to get me off the hook, obviously.”

“I’m there for you,” Gabriel replies firmly. Then he idly explains, “Oh, just so you know, after the Gadreel mess, I charge by the quarter hour.”

“He was such a freaking moron.”

“He was, and very costly. Thus the fee hike.”

Lucifer sighs and grips the phone tightly. “But I’m your brother.”

“And you’re also a huge dickbag who pissed everyone off. This ain’t gonna be easy.”

“I think I need another lawyer.”

Gabriel laughs. “Good luck finding someone who’ll convincingly defend you, bro.”

Lucifer squeezes the bridge of his nose and clenches his eyes shut. “Please stop calling me _bro_.”

“That’ll cost another ten per hour.”

“Totally worth it.”

**Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came among them.**  
 _Job 1:6_

The case is set in an abandoned gymnasium in Detroit, which is all kinds of appropriate, really. The wooden floor is cracking, veneer peeling back to damaged boards, and the brick walls are slowly crumbling. Much like Lucifer’s hopes for maintaining his innocence, for he spots a venerable list of Heaven’s and Hell’s Hall of Famers filling the spectators’ area. Folks he betrayed, ones who betrayed him, others who stood beside him with great loyalty. They all know his worst moments, and suddenly he’s seriously doubting his chances here.

When Gabriel sits down beside him with a file that is miniscule compared to the prosecution’s, Lucifer shifts in his seat and glares at him.

Gabriel glances back and winks. “We ready, bro?”

He winces at the name and is about to strangle Gabriel for it, but then the bailiff calls for all to stand and introduces the judge. Lucifer stands, fixes the buttons on his suit jacket, and looks up to the jurors’ area which is high above the courtroom and slowly being lowered as the judge takes his seat. 

Lucifer thinks he makes out a few faces, but many others are shrouded in shadows due to the high lights beaming down upon them. “Don’t really have a choice now, do I?”

Gabriel slaps him on the back. “That’s the spirit.”

From there, it’s Lucifer’s greatest hits with cameos from the Bible’s ultimate superstars.

**You were an anointed guardian cherub. I placed you; you were on the holy mountain of God; in the midst of the stones of fire you walked.**  
 _Ezekiel 28:14_

Lucifer feels steady as Gabriel winds around the defense table and lightly claps his hands together, taking in the first witness. It was ages ago, literally dozens of them, when Lucifer first met the man. There are a dozen stories to be told on just the introductions and Lucifer can imagine those tales going south real quickly if the hardened look on the witness’s face is anything to go by.

Gabriel seems just as loose and ready as he swings his arms at his sides and slyly smiles at the jury.

“Now, Zeke,” Gabriel begins, then quickly looks to the witness stand. “Can I call you Zeke?”

“Pardon?” Ezekiel asks in that flat, uptight tone of his. 

“So, Zeke, you were the first of Lucifer’s bosses, right?”

“Yes, perhaps you can call me that.”

“I just did.” Gabriel smiles broadly at the jury as he leans against the banister in front of the witness stand. Ezekiel is visibly perturbed by that notion or maybe just by Gabriel’s presence, and he sits up straight, pushing back on the padding of the chair. Lucifer narrows his eyes, skeptical of Ezekiel’s response as history floods him. 

They never were what one would call ... nice to one another. 

“And was he a good employee?”

Lucifer holds in a sigh, keeps his nerves at bay for he knows Ezekiel will not stand up for him. They’d had plenty of disagreements over time, and Lucifer often ignored Ezekiel’s suggestions to tone it all down. 

Ezekiel clears his throat and aims a bored look at Gabriel. “He was fair.”

“Just fair? Not really good or really bad.”

Ezekiel’s bright blue eyes flicker with annoyance then quickly flare out. “I said fair.”

“So, not the worst you’ve ever had … would you agree?”

“He is the worst of all the angels I’ve had beneath me—”

Gabriel cracks a smile and nods in the jury’s direction, all while Lucifer rolls his eyes at his brother’s antics. A few of those gathered snigger, but a majority look affronted. 

“However, he was not so bad under my direction.”

With sure feet, Gabriel marches to the defense table, flips a file open, and heads right back to the witness. “I present to the court defense item 11B. Lucifer’s file from Mount employment.” He flaps the file down into Ezekiel’s lap. “Can you read the highlighted passage?”

Ezekiel flusters at the steady glance Gabriel has aimed at him, and Lucifer sits up with interest. He’s curious what all is in the _official file_ , especially as Ezekiel slowly brings the file up and reads to himself, lips moving with silent words, then sighs. 

“Go on,” Gabriel goads. “Read the yellow part.”

If possible, Ezekiel’s voice comes out even more unemotional. “Lucifer’s timesheets are void of any tardiness. He is often the first one to the fire and last to leave. And he always lends a helping hand to his fellow cherubs.”

Gabriel now leans on his elbow, setting his chin in his palm, and waves his free hand at Ezekiel. “Go ahead … keep reading.”

He sets his jaw and grits his teeth, yet still recites, “By all standards and procedures here on the Mount, Lucifer is a model employee.”

“Zeke!” Gabriel exclaims, and Ezekiel’s blue eyes blaze. “You just told us he was only fair. Yet for three years in a row, his performance reviews were no less than stellar.”

“It’s all a lie.”

Gabriel turns to the jury to show off his confused expression and body language, his hand flipping in either direction. “It’s a lie that you just told us he was a fair employee, or that you consistently gave Lucifer stellar reviews?”

Ezekiel quietly stews, nostrils flaring and eyes nearly boring a hole in Gabriel’s forehead. Lucifer begins to grin. 

Cool and unaffected, Gabriel spins between the witness stand and the jurors. “Either way, it sounds like _you’re_ the one lying.”

“Objection!” Raphael shouts as he rises to his feet. “Badgering the witness.”

Gabriel politely smiles to the judge, even bows. “The witness is excused.”

The crowd loudly mumbles as the jury nervously searches the room for others’ responses, and Chuck fights with his gavel to gather their attention. “Order in the court! Order! Now! In the court!”

Sitting behind the defense table, Gabriel grins at Lucifer and whispers, “One down.”

“Twenty to go,” Lucifer grumbles.

“Just you wait, brother.”

**If anyone thinks that he is a prophet or spiritual, he should acknowledge that what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord. If anyone does not recognize this, he is not recognized.**  
 _1 Corinthians 14:37-40_

“Now, Pauly,” Gabriel says once Paul the Apostle has settled on the witness stand.

“It’s Paul.”

“Right,” he replies with a small sigh at the end. “Now, you often spoke to John Mark for your writings in the Bible, correct?”

Paul nods firmly and crosses his legs, long fingers folding together at his knees. “At times, yes.”

“And he often wrote for you, correct?”

Paul’s dark eyes narrow at Gabriel, who innocently smiles in return.

“Correct?”

“At times, it seems as though my letters were reinterpreted,” he repeats, more tightly than before. 

“By John Mark?”

“I do not know.”

“Is it possible at all?”

“I’d like to believe no.”

Lucifer wants to bury his face in his hands, but settles for rubbing his bottom lip while Gabriel playfully makes a double take to the witness stand then smiles. “C’mon, Pauly—”

“Paul.”

“ _Paul_ ,” he stretches each syllable out with exaggeration in the shape of his mouth. “Are you telling me that it’s absolutely impossible?”

With great strength, Paul assures the courtroom, “Yes, I am.”

Gabriel grabs a stack of papers from the defense table, winking at Lucifer, which isn’t all too comforting. Lucifer rings his hands together and imagines Gabriel’s throat fitting nicely between his fingers. But then Gabriel roams the area before the witness stand, reading the papers as he asks, “Have you and John Mark always had a good relationship?”

When Paul doesn’t immediately answer, Gabriel looks to Lucifer, who is clueless as to where his brother is going, even shrugs at Gabriel. Still, his brother appears unaffected, turns to Paul, and prods him to finally answer: “We were fine friends.”

“You _were_?”

“Yes.”

“As in no longer are?” Gabriel asks with a back and forth motion of his hand.

“I wasn’t aware it meant anything else.”

Lucifer presses his thumb into his lower lip and spends time glaring at both his brother and Paul, unsure who he’s more annoyed with at the moment. Gabriel may be winning as he makes a put-upon-thoughtful noise and taps the top sheet in his hand. “Have you read Acts 15:37 through 41?”

Now Paul’s dark eyes widen in confusion and he switches the cross of his legs. “I’m certain I have.”

“About the Council of Jerusalem? Do you remember what it reads?”

“I am not certain.”

“Really?”

Paul offers Chuck and the jurors a kind smile apiece. “There are quite a few passages in the Bible. Am I to remember every one?”

“It _is_ a big book,” he says to the jury with a quick smirk. “Takes ages to get through it. Thankfully we’ve had plenty of time for repeat readings. It’s always sitting front and center in my Kindle.”

Lucifer does finally cover his face and grumbles to himself. Perhaps going with family was the worst decision he’s ever made.

“Counselor?” Chuck asks with a rolling turn of his hand to hurry up. 

Gabriel snaps his fingers. “Right, yes.” Then he quickly reads from his file. “Barnabas wanted to take John, also called Mark, with them, but Paul did not think it wise to take him, because he had deserted them in Pamphylia and had not continued with them in the work. They had such a sharp disagreement that they parted company.”

He stops before the jury and looks to Paul, takes time to let that confusion spin out into contrition. There’s a long silence in the courtroom until a few voices murmur in the back and Raphael half-rises out of his chair. “Your honor … objection?”

Chuck partly frowns. “On account of …?”

“Well, sir,” he bristles then pauses, searching for the right determination. “The defense hasn’t stated a question in far too long.”

“No kidding,” Lucifer mumbles.

Gabriel bows to the judge. “My apologies to the court. I was just taking the long road there.” He twists to face Paul and shrugs. “So what was that disagreement?”

Paul watches Gabriel, who’s patiently waiting. “We had a difference in opinion.”

“About?”

“About our opinions.”

“Opinions on whom?” Gabriel needles. He slides up to the banister in front of Paul, hands curling around the top of it and aiming a soft look at him. “Who did you disagree on?” After a few tense moments, he murmurs, “C’mon Paul—”

“Paul,” he corrects with frustration.

“Pauly, you can tell us.”

Nervously, Paul wipes his face and shakes his head, keeping his eyes away from Gabriel. “Lucifer. We disagreed on Lucifer.”

Lucifer feels an immediate shock, a mix of confusion, insult, and yet understanding and pleasure at how Gabriel’s led Paul here. It may be another confirmation of how disliked Lucifer is, or how small his pool of supporters is, but it helps his case.

“And what about Lucifer did you disagree on?” Gabriel asks.

“I did not think he was … quite so bad. John Mark, however, felt differently.”

With a leading tone, Gabriel asks, “You didn’t write all those libelous things about the defendant, did you?”

“It’s quite possible,” he replies quietly, “That I did not.”

Gabriel grins at Chuck. “I’d like to call my next witness. John Mark!”

Minutes later, the witness stand is full of another apostle, though one who is less reticent.

“John Mark,” Gabriel starts, “Is it true that you held great disdain for my client?”

“Absolutely,” he grunts.

Lucifer is partly satisfied to hear that and yet angered, once again. He considers what kind of retaliation he can make upon the man once this whole court silliness is over.

“And why is that?” Gabriel asks.

John Mark glares at Lucifer, hardly backing down when Lucifer sits proudly, preening and swiping imaginary dust from his suit jacket. “Because of who he is. Just look at him. A dirty angel.”

“Is it also true that you wrote 1 Corinthians 14:37, denouncing my client from the Lord, his _own father_?”

“You’re damned right it is!”

“Your witness!”

**The rest of the dead did not come to life until the thousand years were ended. This is the first resurrection.**  
 _Revelation 20:5_

Raphael tweaks the Windsor knot of his tie and sends a sideways smile at Gabriel and Lucifer just before facing Chuck. “Your honor, the prosecution would like to call Death to the stand.”

“Oh, for the love of me,” Lucifer grumbles, dropping his head down to the table. He picks it back up to the smell of fried foods that wafts past him with Death’s entrance.

Death takes the witness stand with his standard black suit, tie, and crumpled, greasy paper bag of treats. Chuck seems to take issue with it, mumbling something about food in the courtroom, but Death need only aim a ... deathly stare at the judge and all is accepted. 

As Raphael rounds his table and approaches the witness stand, Death’s dark, sunken eyes narrow at first Lucifer then Gabriel. He takes his time to pluck a fried mac ‘n cheese nugget out of the take-out bag, chew it, half-smile, then finally concedes to Raphael’s close approach.

“Sir, can you state your business for the court?”

“I deal in death and souls.”

“And how do you do that.”

Death slowly turns his cold stare unto Raphael, who motions at the jury.

“If you don’t mind, please do explain for the court.”

Rolling his eyes, Death slowly eats another mac ‘n cheese nugget. He chews through it while considering Raphael. Upon swallowing, he calmly states, “I employ a staff of reapers to handle the exchange of living souls.”

“And how does that work?”

“My people accompany the soul in transition, facilitating the moment humans cross over.”

Lucifer shifts in his seat even as this testimony is completely harmless. He certainly knows where it’s headed. 

“And you have the same powers?” Raphael asks, standing to the side of the defense table, fingers pressing at the corner closest to Lucifer. 

Death smiles. Or, as close to a smile as he has. “What good is a boss if he cannot properly understand and command his staff?”

“And so, if someone were to call upon you to also facilitate a transition of a large number of souls, you would be able to?”

“Quite certainly.”

“How many at one time?”

“As many as needed.”

Raphael swings his hand out with a smile. “Let’s say, five? Can you handle five at once?”

Death coolly stares at Raphael. “Dare you insult my supremacy?”

Following a shrug, Raphael crosses his arms and hitches a hip against the side of the table. At this angle, Death is practically testifying directly at Lucifer, who sucks in a quick breath and leans away from Raphael. “How many are we talking here?”

“Many.”

“A dozen?” Death scoffs and Raphael tries, “A hundred?” A roll of the eyes. “A thousand? Many thousands?”

Death reaches into his bag and now has a jalapeno popper tucked between one frail index finger and the pad of his thumb. Lucifer sure hopes it’s the cream cheese kind; it is the superior version after all. Death takes the time to bite half off, chew, and tilt his head in consideration. “As the reaper with the utmost experience, I am fully capable of taking on thousands upon thousands of souls.”

Raphael makes a thoughtful noise and glances down at Lucifer before stepping over to the jury. “So, you’re quite a potent weapon?”

“I would be, if I were capable of being used. I stand on my own accord, and answer to no one.”

“No one?”

“No,” he replies firmly.

“Never?” Raphael lifts his eyebrows with faked surprise in his voice. “Never has someone tried to control you?”

“Tried, yes. Succeeded, never.”

“And who tried?”

Death turns slightly away from Lucifer even as he says, “The defendant once attempted it, but sadly for the defense, it was stopped by two walking flannel stores.”

“Why did he try?”

“Because he’s a petulant spawn who thinks he deserves a crown.”

Lucifer fusses in his seat while glaring at Death and absolutely not acting petulant in any manner. 

“What would he have used you for?”

“Any number of natural disasters, I’m certain.” Death then leans forward in his seat, as if imparting classified information. “Just another reason to lock him up and toss the key. He’s little more than maggots in the terrible twos.”

Gabriel jumps up, finally, interjects with a flamboyant toss of his hand, and shouts, “Objection, your honor!”

“About time,” Lucifer sighs.

Raphael grins at Gabriel and bows. “Your witness.”

Gabriel rounds the table to approach the stand, fixing his suit jacket. “Now, Death, sir, is it not true that at times you were also, while under your own control, facilitating mass exchanges of souls in the same manner my client was asking you to?”

Death leans forward in his seat. There’s an icy brush of air sweeping through the courtroom. It even makes the swinging gates bump each other. His dark, hollow eyes pin Gabriel in place, and the room falls quiet and still, enough so that Death’s quiet question is still heard as though it were a booming threat. “Are you questioning my performance?”

“No, of course not, Death, sir,” Gabriel says in a rush as he hurries back to his seat. “Witness is dismissed.”

“That went well,” Lucifer whispers.

Gabriel huffs. “I’m not stupid enough to defy Death.”

**How you are fallen from heaven, O Day Star, son of Dawn! How you are cut down to the ground, you who laid the nations low! You said in your heart,**

**“I will ascend to heaven; above the stars of God I will set my throne on high; I will sit on the mount of assembly in the far reaches of the north; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.”**   
_Isaiah 14:12-15_

On the witness stand, Lucifer is prepared to make his case ... seeing as his brother mostly failed to do it. And so with Lucifer badly misquoted, he decides to settle the score, once and for all.

“Isaiah?

“Fuck that guy.

“That pompous son of a bitch with his white robes and diatribes and his inability to use a period. Who the hell needs that many commas?

“No one. No one does, Isaiah, so he can shut it with all that bull shit and righteous floundering.

“As if a man who fails to acknowledge the period has right to mock me and to shove my words back in my face.

“I didn’t say that. Would never have.

“Okay, I said something _like that_. But it wasn’t _exactly that_. I said I’d ascend to Heaven, above the stars of God, all so I could look down on our Father and show him that he wasn’t above everyone. I would, _literally_ sit above Heaven and prove that there was more to strive for than Heaven. That the humans, his creation, could do something more with themselves than pray to Father for redemption.

“They could pray to us all for help. To me, too.

“So screw Isaiah.”

Raphael grins while the gavel pounds loudly on the dais, echoing through the expansive room where Lucifer can no longer tell when wall ends and the next begins. It’s all just dirty red bricks blending into each other at this point.

“Your Honor,” Gabriel shouts above the ruckus of hushed whispers and outraged snorts coming from the crowd.

Behind the judge’s stand, Chuck flinches with wide eyes until he finally looks at Gabriel. “Oh, yes, right. You rang?”

“May I have a moment with my client?”

“Well, yes,” he concedes, eyebrows furrowing. “But just one.”

Once Lucifer and Gabriel are huddled together off to the side, Gabriel smacks Lucifer, then takes a swift step back, as if anticipating retaliation.

Lucifer merely shakes his head, shakes out the pain, and glares at Gabriel. “And what was that for?”

“You cannot take a prophet’s name in vain.”

“I didn’t.”

“You said,” Gabriel then glances around with nerves and stage whispers, “Fuck Isaiah.”

“Yeah? And? That guy’s been a major douche to our family and it’s about time someone stood up to him.”

Gabriel sighs, begins to turn away, then swings back around to glare at Lucifer. “I am _trying to save your life_ \--”

Lucifer smacks Gabriel’s shoulder as he remembers, “What about when he called you a freak? Six wings, my ass! My brother ain’t no deformity.”

Deflating a little, maybe even smiling partway, Gabriel nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Lucifer pats Gabriel’s shoulder, nicer this time, and squeezes. “Now, how’s my case looking? As shitty as it began?”

“Absolutely terrible.”

“What?” he shrieks. He’d witnessed some of Gabriel’s miracles in the courtroom and they’d begun to give Lucifer hope.

“You just took Isaiah’s name in vain!”

“I said ‘fuck him’ not ‘damn him’,” Lucifer defends. “There’s a difference.”

Gabriel rushes to cover Lucifer’s mouth, pressing tightly even when Lucifer attempts a trouble-tongued lick. “You cannot do that either! Especially not when you’re on the stand to defend your life. How can I prove to them you’re not a Grade A prick when you’re telling people to fuck off?”

“Calm down,” Lucifer insists, even while rolling his eyes.

“I will _not_ calm down,” Gabriel grumbles back. “You’re going to ruin my record.”

“And what is that?”

“Two not-guilty and one no contest.”

Lucifer huffs. “I still can’t believe you got Uriel out of a guilty plea.”

“I’m just that good, brother.”

“Then get back in there and work your magic!”

**For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.**  
 _John 3:16_

A mere two hours from the start of jury deliberations, Lucifer is back in his seat at the defense table. Gabriel is beside him, as always these days, with his leg shaking and knee bumping and fingers tap-tap-tapping.

Sure, his brother is nervous, but Lucifer isn’t. He happily recalls the early testimony in his favor and how Gabriel had broken some of Heaven’s greatest angels to admitting Lucifer wasn’t such a bad guy. _Innocent until proven guilty_ should keep Lucifer free, and he’ll gladly strut out of this courtroom and appreciate chirping birds and the bold yellow sun for the first time in his life. 

Gabriel tosses him another nervous glance, and Lucifer rolls his eyes and turns a pleased smile to the front of the court room. 

And now his stomach grumbles and he figures the first stop out of court will be at the first diner he crosses. Nick hasn’t eaten in years. Well, not adequately. While Lucifer enjoys swallowing down salty souls, Nick likely prefers cheese and sausage from his portlier days in Wisconsin, and this body deserves nourishment.

It’s been one of Lucifer’s better vessels. That stupid Winchester kid loved leaves and veggies and other random shit that comes out of the earth. Just watching Sam’s old memories of past dinners would make him gag.

Just then, the crowd shoots up in excitement for the entering jury. It’s the first time Lucifer’s bothered to _really_ look at the twelve supposed peers who are responsible for his future, and he realizes he probably should have paid better attention when on the witness stand. Last to file into the jury box is Isaiah with his long, scraggly, white hair and beard. Isaiah strokes pointy fingernails through the curls of his beard and watches Lucifer with every step until he sits down.

“Fuck me,” Lucifer whines.

Gabriel shakes his head and covers his face. “I told you, you should’ve been nicer about him.”

“I didn’t know he was there! I thought it was St. Nicholas.”

“It’s always a bad sign,” Gabriel mutters. “When the jury comes back too soon, always a bad sign.”

“Maybe it’s a good sign,” Lucifer offers with a shrug. “I mean, there’s War and Abbadon over there. A few from my team.”

“You think Abbadon wants you returning? She’s running the show now.”

“All rise,” the bailiff announces Chuck’s return, who quickly calls for the jury foreman.

Abbadon stands, flicking fiery red hair off her shoulder. Her equally bright red lips widen in a broad smile and Lucifer drops his head forward, closes his eyes, and doesn’t bother preparing himself for the guilty verdict.

She, however, takes great pleasure – and time – in announcing the jury has found Lucifer guilty of all counts. The courtroom erupts in cheers and shouts of thankfulness. Only Lucifer and Gabriel are disappointed in the whole matter.

“They could have saved us the waste of time and just said so from the get-go,” Lucifer complains. 

Gabriel frowns, then suddenly smiles. “Yeah, but it sure was fun, right?” 

Lucifer doesn’t waste time punching him square in the nose. 

Chuck pounds his gavel and shouts for order. He tsks at Lucifer. “You certainly are making this easy, aren’t you?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes, then straightens his shoulders. “Seems as though it’s already been made easy.”

“Very well.” Chuck sits back in his chair, taking in those gathered, and considers the defense table. “Lucifer, for your crimes against humanity and all of Heaven and Hell, you are hereby banished to the sky for all of eternity.”

“The sky?” Lucifer asked harshly. “ _Eternity_?”

“The end of time.” Chuck smacks the gavel once more. “Court is adjourned.”

**The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.**  
 _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_

Lucifer acutely remembers falling from Heaven, from Father’s own swift hand. It’d been fast and loud and, surprisingly, cold. It’d been cold in Hell upon first arriving, but he’d recovered. Gotten himself up on two feet with shaky legs that wouldn’t stopped twitching until they finally bowed out like a wounded calf.

He gave orders right away. Never one to waste time there, Lucifer commanded all of Hell to do his bidding. To visit earth and corrupt the masses, enslave the worthy, and expand their population. Soon enough, the fires blazed, and heat and smoke filled the air. Lucifer stood among his subjects and smiled.

He’d show Dad.

But he didn’t. And he didn’t really show any one else what kind of great intentions he really had behind any of his actions. That was proven at his trial, when a jury of his _peers_ swiftly delivered justice. This time, his punishment was not to fall, but to rise. Up to the night sky, with only the millions of burning stars to keep him company. 

His first night in the sky is silent and long. He rocks upon his swing, hung from delicate stars just above him, and he stares out onto the expanse of the black night. He kicks his legs back and forth, creating momentum for a steady swing, and sighs. 

“Eternity in the sky.

“No one has any creativity anymore.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise that there’s no answer, but the silence feels extremely heavy following his complaint.

“You want real punishment? Try a century in hell.” Lucifer chuckles and rocks with his head back at watch the stars tip back and forth with each of his movements. “Now _there’s_ some creativity. Standing in line at the DMV is only the third circle. Doctor’s waiting rooms right alongside it. Customer service to the left.”

He scowls at the few stars nearby that begin to twinkle, as if laughing at him. 

“This is a cakewalk. Like the nine-to-fivers taking their lunch break.”

Lucifer spends most of that first night chastising Chuck and the courts for missing out on a good chance to properly punish God’s fallen son. 

Come morning, the stars fade out as light fills the sky. He can just barely make out the outlines to the flares that had kept him up all night, which is strangely comforting, to know his swing still has something to hold. Yet he sees nothing beyond the stretch of a pale blue sky. Nothing stands below him and the space above is still never-ending. 

As night returns, Lucifer begins to question the sanity of a jury that so immediately dealt him this hand. The third, fourth, and fifth nights he focuses on Raphael, Abbadon, and Gabriel, respectfully.

It’s when he hits his second week that he recognizes the ingenuity of being exiled without another living, breathing soul … or being. 

“Me damnit,” he mumbles. “This place sucks.”

**I talk to God but the sky is empty.**  
 _Sylvia Plath_

“Was it really so bad?” Lucifer asks as he leans to the side and brings his feet up to the far end of the swing. He holds onto the rope against his back, leans away from the swing, and stares up at the stars directly above him. He narrows his eyes and tries to make out anything beyond the blackness of night. 

There’s nothing there. He is completely alone.

Weeks into his sentence, this is all he has. The dark, expansive sky at night and an equally sprawling blue landscape come morning. He does still have his voice, and he uses it to declare his anger at all who have turned their back on him. Especially Father.

“I just wanted to maintain the order in Heaven. You granted the humans too much. You forgot about _us_ , your real children.”

He picks at his nails, has every night since being placed upon this swing, yet every morning, they appear just as they were before this all happened. After a few days, he began tearing at his shirt, yet that appeared untouched each morning. It may be worse than any other matters here in the sky. He easily loses track of how long he’s been here because nothing sticks and shows progression. 

It’s just him and this swing and the vacant sky. 

“It’s not like the others were any better. Raphael stole your throne the second you went out for a smoke break. Gabriel ran away every other week and experimented on the humans like a kid picking the legs off bugs. And don’t even get me started on Michael.”

The stars answer in their quick blinks. He’s unsure if they’re agreeing with him or not, but there’s a small comfort in having an audience.

“C’mon, Dad. You’re really gonna let them do this to me?”

He clears his throat, clears out the whine in his voice. “I mean, seriously … this is such bullshit and you know it. If you’d cared as much for us as you did for those humans, think about all the things you could have avoided.”

That gets him thinking even further, considering his dad’s absence and the drastic consequences. 

“It didn’t have to be this way.”

Suddenly, he’s not sure if he’s talking to Father or himself.

**It isn't a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace to have no stars to reach for.**  
 _Benjamin E. Mays_

He knows the stars aren’t moving. At least, he’s really pretty sure they aren’t. Yet, it seems as though a few have travelled just a bit closer to him. 

In realities, Lucifer’s eyes are betraying him. They’re nearly cross-eyed from staring at a mass of constellations flickering for half the day, every day, nonstop. 

But he doesn’t realize that, never even considers the possibility. What he does consider is leaning forward, stretching out one arm, and fluttering his fingers out to touch one. Even if it’s a flash of pain from the bright fire behind it, he wants to feel these stars that accompany him in his punishment.

He just wants to _feel_. Something more than lonely, abandoned.

The star winks at him and he leans further, slides to the edge of his swing, and stretches. The quick flutter of light feels like it’s laughing at him and he scowls. He even snaps his fingers in anger, then reaches again. 

“C’mon now. You’re right here. Don’t be shy,” he insists.

He scoots to the very, very edge of the seat and tries again. Then slips completely off and quickly wraps his arms around the seat to keep from falling ... to whatever is below. 

“Dad damnit! C’mon!” he shouts as his legs swing around in the emptiness.

The stars all glow with laughter, and he huffs and curses as he tugs himself up to the seat. It takes more effort to bring his legs up and over, but soon enough, he’s seated properly and glaring at the stars. 

“You’re all a bunch of assholes.”

**At night, when the sky is full of stars and the sea is still you get the wonderful sensation that you are floating in space.**  
 _Natalie Wood_

In the days following, Lucifer tests the strength of his unused arms. He grips the ropes tight, lets his body fall backward with legs tucked around the swing’s seat, then pulls himself up. It’s a tough exercise, but one he is well aware he needs. So time and time again, he runs off a dozen or so reps and rests, only to start up again and build his muscles up. He has nothing but time now, and whatever he can do to better himself, to improve his time out here, he’s willing to do.

It takes days, weeks, maybe even months – time is of no meaning now – he develops enough muscle mass that he can easily drape himself across the seat, swinging side to side, and creates momentum to give him different perspectives of the stars around him. Eventually, he makes out the crude shape of a face with a thin nose, wide jaw, and long brow line. He squints at it then sees the stars spread where the lips are, words forming with sounds following.

_Bored yet?_

“Constantly,” he groans, followed by a long, whispy sigh. 

_Tired?_

Lucifer thinks on that; he hasn’t slept much, if at all, but that’s par for the course. Sleep never did him any good, wasn’t ever required, really. Now that he’s considered it, he really – _really_ — is. “Kinda. Yeah. I am.”

The stars respond with a low, throaty chuckle. _Are you contrite? Ready to give up?_ Its mouth moves a second or two behind the sounds coming from it and Lucifer stops trying to rock in the swing, letting it come to a slow stop. _Well, are you?_

“No,” he replies quietly, eyes narrowing at the figure. 

_Ready to give **in**?_

“I’m just ... biding my time.”

_Until what?_

“Until ...” Lucifer recalls his sentence, Chuck’s exact words, and finishes, “the end of time.”

The face laughs again, stars flashing joyfully. Lucifer easily hears the twinkling of bells and regretfully thinks of angels and wings and young children wishing upon them. Ages ago, he’d given up on grace and apologies, fully acknowledging no little boys or girls were going to sit bedside and ask for his help.

_I sure do hope you have a lot of patience._

“I’ve been known to wait,” he replies proudly. 

_Rome wasn’t built in a day._

“Nor was Hell,” he jokes. 

_No, it wasn’t_.

“Or cell phones. Or health insurance.”

Together, they laugh with gusto, Lucifer swinging again, tipping his feet forward and back as he pulls in a bit of air to ease his breathing. 

A hand forms in the atmosphere, stars burning brightly in the shape of a tablet in the figure’s hand. _Now if only I could sync my iCloud._

Lucifer waves his hands and moans. “Don’t even ask me. I refused to touch Apple. Michael was all over that hot mess.”

_And yet he doesn’t join you here?_

“What better endorsement than the people? They love their iPhones.”

They laugh together, again and again, until they settle into an easy conversation. Lucifer notices that the stars are burning brighter around the face, some flickering in and out as it moves, but still there. Still talking, asking questions, returning answers. 

A companion. 

In the far reaches of his mind, he knows he’s gone insane to talk to a face in the stars. He’s circling around the bend, running around the mountain, like a bat out of hell, and never coming back. 

But he thinks that’s okay. When in Rome, and all that ...

  
**Not only do we live among the stars, the stars live within us.**   
_Neil deGrasse Tyson_


End file.
